Paradox
by 221b-whovian
Summary: Everytime a major event takes place, an alternate universe is created in which the opposite happens. This is a series of one-shots describing times when life or death situations, ended in death. Rated T for well... death.
1. Chapter 1

**Paradox**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ranger's Apprentice.**

**Summary: Every time a major event happens, an alternate universe is created, in which, the opposite of reality is created. In other words, this is a collection of one-shots involving how life and death situations could have ended in death. This is primarily a writing exercise, I'm trying to get better at writing death scenes, I figured there was no better way to do it than to practice it. This particular one is a universe in which Will was never given warmweed. As terrible as his addiction was, I think he would have died without it.**

Icebound Lands: Will

It was cold, so, so cold. I was sure even the marrow in my bones was frozen solid. I felt my neck for a pulse, amazed that my blood was still in a liquid state. I pulled my small blanket up to my chin, though I knew it was pointless. Blankets contained body heat, they wouldn't help if you weren't radiating any heat to contain.

I had been offered warmweed yesterday, and I would have taken it if I hadn't been warned. The boy I saved had approached me in the dead of night, hissing into my ear, "Beware, Araluen, beware the drug and beware the cold."

That morning I had almost believed I'd dreamed it, until I began to investigate. All around me there were signs of a population controlled by addiction. Most of the slaves in the yard were lifeless and scrawny. Deep physical scars such as black almost bruise-like bags under their eyes, their faces resembled skulls and almost no muscle existed on their bones. All of this could be the result of hard labor, little food and harsh treatment, but I sensed it was something more.

Instructions were taken without question, and more than once I saw the exchange of some unknown package for a blanket or coin. The Committee seemed to be in charge of the distribution of the drug, controlling the amount given to each person. Once I thought about it, it was also quite easy to tell who was high off of it. They looked blissful and content. Nothing was impossible to them, not while they were soaring in their drug-induced daze.

Tonight, I almost wished I had some of it. I imagined that being incased in an icicle could not make me any colder. The dry, freezing air tore through my body, clawing at my skin. The Committee had kindly assigned me to yet another day at the paddles, and the water on my clothing had long since turned into a frost that would not melt.

Minutes turned to hours, as I prayed for sleep to claim me. My hands, feet and arms were numb, and while it was a relief to no longer feel the cold, it worried me. I tried to bring feeling back into them by pounding them on the floor, but I received no response. Eventually my legs too lost feeling, and then I couldn't feel anything at all.

I drifted into unconsciousness, no longer aware of where I was. Though I could not determine my location, I knew I was dying. Images of Redmont, Halt, Alyss, Horace, the Gathering Grounds and Tug all swam in front of my eyes. Halt would be disappointed to know I was dead, he would come all this way only to fail. I wished that I could have kissed Alyss again, I liked her so much. Gilan would be upset, I hoped he would help Halt get over it.

Slowly, I descended into black nothingness. Soft, velvety darkness engulfed me, carrying me to somewhere warm.

**Review, please. As this whole thing is practice, constructive criticism is more than accepted, it's welcomed with open arms!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Paradox**

**Disclaimer: … You know.**

**This chapter backpedals to before time began… aka when Halt was a kid.**

**Before the Books-Halt**

My family was sitting around the cold, wooden table, eating dinner. My father and mother sat at the head of the table, looking noble and prim. Ferris sat across from me, on my mother's left, and Caitlyn sat next to me.

You could have sliced the tension in the air with a dull spoon, my parents had been arguing again. I couldn't tell you what they were disagreeing about, though the yelling had kept me up until past midnight last night. It probably had to do with me, finances, me, the new taxation laws or, of course, the ever present option of me.

There was something else as well, my brother was practically radiating waves of nervousness, when our food was brought out, he visibly paled. I thought he might be sick, but the moment passed and I didn't think much else of it.

Seafood was being served tonight, and I silently thanked the cook for making a plate of shrimp. No one else in my family could stand the little shellfish, but I adored it. Eagerly, I piled some onto platter, eating it with gusto.

It was good, but not up to the usual standard. A slightly bitter aftertaste was left in my mouth as I swallowed, and after a few bites I wondered if it was bad. We were in the middle of fishing season, why would the shrimp not be fresh? It didn't make any sense, but I avoided the fish anyway.

After about ten minutes I began to feel slightly ill. The smell of butter and salt was making my feel sick. I could almost see myself turn green as my stomach turned. I jumped up and sprinted toward the nearest bathroom.

I didn't make it, I vomited all over the floor. Several worried serving maids and my mother followed me. The world turned a funny shade of red, and all I could hear were indistinct cries of "Prince Halt!", "Very ill!" and "Healer!"

Someone picked me up, taking me away from the noise. Before I completely lost touch of reality, I caught a glimpse of Ferris. He was standing in a doorway, looking at the proceedings with interest. He seemed unperturbed by this turn of events. I hoped that he would catch it.

For several days I had medicine shoved down my throat, thermometers stuck in my mouth and odd contraptions put in my ears. People attempted to feed me liquids and every kind of goop imaginable, put all of it came straight back up.

After the third day, everyone, including me, had lost hope. There was no way I was pulling through this. I was too sick, I was going to die from this.

I don't think that I ever had a defining moment when I realized that I was dying, I just knew. So when I didn't wake up, it really wasn't a surprise.

My mother moaned and cried, my father stoically comforted her. Caitlyn could not be consoled, and most of the staff was shaken up as well. Ferris, on the other hand, was completely unaffected. As I looked down, I knew that he had done this.

My brother, my _twin _brother had deliberately poisoned me to gain access to the throne of Clonmel! He got it too, with no other heir, Ferris received the rights to the throne. I wondered if he thought it was worth it.

**Review, please! Once again, the whole point of this exercise is to learn, so any constructive critiscm is welcomed.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Paradox**

**Disclaimer: All belongs to the god-like Mr. Flanagan.**

**I have my first Speech and Drama meet of the year tomorrow, and I've found that, by far, the best stress reliever is writing. So this chapter takes place in book two, when Horace is facing Morgarath. (I just laughed out loud when my computer turned Morgarath into 'Margaret') I'm writing this from Halt's point of view, as I want to work on reactions in death scenes.**

**Burning Bridge- Horace**

After several passes against Morgarath, I could see that Horace was visibly tiring. The former knight carried an absolutely massive sword, which was quickly wearing down his opponent.

Anger swelled in my chest as I watched this full-grown man destroy an apprentice. When Horace went down, I would duel Morgarath myself. I mentally corrected my former assessment, _if _Horace went down.

After two more passes, I could tell that Horace was done. Almost instinctually, I began to ease an arrow out of my quiver. Duncan put his hand on my arm, reminding me to follow the rules. I ground my teeth, I didn't give a damn about the rules! I would be killing the man later anyways, I might as well do it _before _he killed an innocent child!

Nevertheless, I dropped the arrow, I had to follow orders. The movement felt wrong, and almost physically painful. Seconds later, Horace fell off his horse under a rain of blows. Morgarath backed away, letting us run to the boy.

Someone tugged off his helmet, revealing bloody hair and more blood dripping from his chin. I placed two fingers at his neck, feeling for a pulse. It was faint, but there.

"Get a healer! Someone get a healer, he's still alive!" I shouted. Several people responded, running towards the paramedic's tent.

I hadn't known Horace for very long, but I knew him just well enough for this to be painful. I knew that he was Will's best friend, I knew he was brave and strong, and now I knew that he was willing to die for Araluen.

I tore a piece of cloth off of my tunic and doused it in water. I began cleaning the blood away from his face, trying to find out where he was wounded. The blood was coming from somewhere on the top of his head, and as I dug through his hair, I found it. The gash was small but deep, he had most likely been cut by his own helmet. I desperately tried to stop the bleeding, but his heart just kept pumping it out.

One of the healers was running towards us, carrying a kit full of medical supplies. I stood up to make room for him, watching him pull out a needle and some thread. He hastily applied some anesthetic to the wound, then started sewing the skin together. Each stitch seemed to take a lifetime, giving time for more of Horace's lifeblood to leak out.

With a flourish, the man snipped the thread. He put his fingers to Horace's neck, and his head fell.

We all leaned in as he said, "He's gone."

Sadness welled up inside me, quickly replaced by hate. I swung to face Morgarath, raising my bow. Without any shouting or , I shot straight into one of the slats in his helmet. With satisfaction, I realized the shot was good.

It took almost 2 seconds for the crowd to realize what had happened. Morgarath tipped over, falling into the dirt off his horse.

Duncan opened his mouth, but I cut him off, "If he's going to kill with impunity, so am I."

**Review, please! Also, I wanted to clear something up real fast. All of these chapters are completely unrelated, for example just because Halt died in the last chapter, doesn't mean he can't be in this one.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Paradox**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything**

**Well my partner and I did very well at Speech and Drama! We got first in our category, so that has put me in a very happy mood, and now that I'm in a happy mood, let's write some angst! This chapter is about Crowley, because I love that guy, and he's so little used in the fandom. It takes place before the books, when Crowley and Halt are on a mission in Celtica. This is written from Halt's perspective.**

**Before the Books- Crowley**

Crowley and I tramped through the snow, shivering violently. I let out a string of curses as we reached the top of the next hill and looked out. Still no trees. Nothing to build a fire with or to provide shelter from the wind.

I heard Crowley groan as he slumped against his horse.

His voice came out muffled as he said, "Halt, how do these people live without trees? This is ridiculous!"

I silently agreed, we wouldn't last much longer in the cold unless we found some wood. A few hours ago we had been involved with a run in with some bandits, we had been severely outnumbered. We had escaped them easily, but not before they threw our supplies in the river.

The freezing temperatures bit at any exposed skin and the wind crawled beneath your clothes, bringing the cold with it.

I sighed and said, "We need to stop Crowley, I bet we can make some kind of shelter out of snow. If we can find a drift, I believe we should be able to dig out a place to stay."

Crowley nodded, "Right, now we just need to find somewhere that snow has bothered to drift."

He made a good point, the landscape was flat, leaving almost nothing to block the snow up into a pile. I scanned the ground for an irregular bump. After a moment, I pointed towards an odd-looking shape in the distance.

"Let's head for that, it looks promising." I told him. He nodded again and we started towards it.

Within fifteen minutes we had reached a huge wall, on which snow was piled high. Apparently the Celticans had built it for exactly the purpose we needed, to our disappointment it was made of clay bricks, so we couldn't burn it for warmth.

Carefully, we began digging a hole at the bottom of the drift. We packed the snow tightly together, building a secure shelter. When the space was big enough for both of us, we crawled inside, wrapping ourselves up in our cloaks.

Our teeth had been chattering for some time now, but this began to abate as our body heat filled the space. With some satisfaction, I regained control of my facial muscles, our little home was warming up nicely.

Once the cold was sapped from our bones, we both found that we were incredibly tired. I volunteered to take first watch, letting Crowley sleep.

I found myself having to force myself to stay awake, something about the return of warmth after the long hours of cold was exhausting. I flexed my bowstring and adjusted my belt, anything to keep my mind occupied. For about half an hour I occupied myself with various fidgeting activities, then, once again, I felt my eyes begin to droop.

I crawled out of our shelter, hoping to wake myself up by getting cold. As soon as the wind hit me I was tempted to crawl straight back in, but I gritted my teeth and resolved to stay out for 10 minutes.

I paced back and forth, knowing it was just about the worst thing you could do when keeping watch, but also knowing that I had to stay alert. Besides, nothing was coming for us. I could see for miles in all directions, and nothing stood out. I circled to the back of the wall, curious about the how they had built it. We didn't make things from bricks in Araluen, and I wanted to see how they had done it.

No sooner than I had reached the far side, I heard a rumbling sound begin to form. I ran back, panicking as I realized that the snow pile was falling!

I sprinted towards the place that I estimated we had built our cave. Already, I could no longer find the entrance. I watched in horror as snow came crashing down, obliterating any sign of Crowley.

Once the miniature avalanche stopped, I began to dig. In a frenzy I scooped at the snow, calling out for my partner. The horses whinnied, sensing my panic. After what felt like hours, I struck something that groaned.

With a yelp, I started to dig faster, an arm, a shoulder and finally a body. I heaved Crowley out of snow, carrying him over to the horses. I ordered them to lay down, then placed his bodies against theirs, hoping to get him some warmth.

His skin was turning a sickly shade of blue, and he was shivering uncontrollably, his pupils were dilated and when I felt for a pulse, it was extremely slow and weak. He seemed to be in some kind of stupor, he had completely lost touch with where he was or the severe condition he was in.

I reviewed the symptoms mentally, and came to the conclusion that he was suffering from a condition that people had run into when in the northern fiefs, like Norgate. Treatment was different depending on the severity, and from what I observed in Crowley, he had it pretty bad.

For mild to moderate cases we were told to wrap up the victim, have them drink warm fluids, get them to move around and feed them food high in sugar. Unfortunately, Crowley was obviously suffering from a severe case, and that changed everything. I basically couldn't do anything but try to keep him warm with my and the horses body heat, and monitor his pulse and breathing.

I sat as close to him as I could, wrapping my cloak around both of us. It alarmed me when I touched his forehead, it was cold as ice. For the next hour or so, my fingers were glued to his neck, constantly feeling for a pulse.

After a long time, his heart spluttered, skipped, then gave out. I pressed my fingers against his jugular harder, hoping to feel something. There was nothing.

I immediately laid him flat on the ground and began to manually restart his heart. My brain was numb to emotion as I counted the number of compressions. Once I reached thirty, I tipped his neck back and gave him two breaths.

This continued for a very long time. I lost feeling in my fingers, but I didn't stop. I was exhausted, but I never stopped pumping Crowley's heart. I would breathe for him and pump his blood forever if he needed me too.

I wasn't cold anymore, anger and hurt coursed hot through my veins. Tears began to drip down my face, freezing somewhere on my cheeks. I had lost my family, my country and my heritage. I had lost my mentor and my dog. I had watched dozens of nameless people die because I couldn't protect them, but nothing compared to this.

Emotions churned through my brain to quickly to understand. Nothing was clear, I couldn't comprehend what was going on. My hands finally left Crowley's chest and went to my hair.

I pulled at it, tearing chunks out, the physical pain distracted me from the emotional agony wracking my body. Sobs shook my frame, I heard unearthly noises ringing in the air and wondered briefly where they were coming from before associating them with my own mouth.

Abelard rested his head on my lap, but I couldn't be comforted. I didn't want to be consoled, I wanted to feel this pain. If I had been stationed where I was supposed to, none of this would have happened! I could have realized sooner that the snow was coming down and woken him up. And even if I hadn't realized it, I could have gone with him, we could have made the journey together.

My tortured cries must have reached someone's ears, because a group of Celtican miners picked me up. I fought them when they tried to pick me up, but soon fell into unconsciousness.

It wasn't fair that I should be rescued, it wasn't fair.

**Wow, that was long. Sorry if anything about Celtica isn't right, I haven't read Burning Bridge in a while. Review, please!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Paradox**

**Disclaimer: Mr. Flanagan owns everything.**

**Okay, so I know that I already updated like, three hours ago, but I was listening to _If I Die Young _by The Band Perry, and it absolutely inspired me! This isn't exactly a death scene, it's a funeral.**

The pale body was lowered into the coffin by the corpses friends. By Araluen tradition, his family should have done it, but he didn't have any. Anyone that knew Will Treaty would have known that he considered Gilan and Horace to be his brothers, and Halt to be his father.

They put him in the dress uniform of a King's Ranger. He looked handsome in it, even while dead. The Silver Oakleaf was displayed around his neck, shining and proud. He had died for Araluen and everyone in it.

Tears fell down on the body periodically, all three men cried freely as they put flowers around him. They then brought him out to lay on the platform prepared for the coffin.

That afternoon, people gathered for the funeral. As they came into the prepared clearing, they paid their respects to the body. Lady Pauline and Alyss arrived together, both leaning on each other as they cried. Crowley came next, for several minutes he just looked at the brave Ranger that had died on a mission issued by his Commandant. King Duncan held Cassandra's hand as she wept over Will's body.

Dozens of people came, so many people had been influenced by the friendly young man. When it was time for the service, almost half of the people there were standing, as there weren't enough chairs to accommodate them.

Halt, Gilan, Horace, Lady Pauline and Alyss sat in the front row, and Alyss stood up first, and her voice shook as she spoke.

"Will Treaty was…" the words stuck in her throat, "he… he was so happy. He deserved to live forever in peace. Everyone here was influenced by him, he was so friendly and… loving." She couldn't continued, and went to sit down. Lady Pauline put her arm around her, trying to be of some consolation.

Gilan was next, he cleared his throat before saying, "Will was like a brother to me. He was brave and one of the best men I ever knew. Even as an apprentice he was worth more than most men will be in their entire lives. He saved this country multiple times, and died doing so. We all owe him our lives."

The tall, blonde Ranger sat back down, breaking down into more silent tears as he reached his seat.

Lady Pauline broke away from Alyss to go up and say, "Will was like a son to me. He saved my husbands life more times than I can count, and made him a better man. He made me a better person as well, one would be ashamed to not be better after meeting him. He deserved more than a short life and a painful death."

The Oakleaf Knight openly sobbed as he spoke about his friend. "A more chivalrous man, I never knew. No knight will ever compare to the standard this Ranger held himself too. I vow now, with all of you as witness that I will avenge him, and honor his memory."

The crowd stirred, a vow of vengeance was a serious thing. Horace was now bound to find and kill the man who had killed Will Treaty. The whispers were approving, Will deserved to be avenged.

People looked at Halt, waiting for him to stand up and speak. The grizzled Ranger looked older than ever as he shook his head. He wasn't going to speak, no words could describe what he was feeling now. Nothing could express the true worth of Will Treaty's short life.

King Duncan and Crowley both presented Halt with medals awarded to Will for his valor. He took them reverently, wishing that his apprentice could be here to receive them himself.

The coffin was then closed and taken to a freshly dug grave. It was lowered six feet into the ground. Dirt was piled back into the hole, burying the young man.

Will Treaty may be dead, but he would live forever in stories, legends and memories.

**I cried while writing this, seriously. Review, please.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Paradox**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything Ranger's Apprentice**

**This one is all about Gil! I've always thought that Gilan was a bit of an odd-ball. What with him being tall, blonde and carrying a sword, he's so different from the other protagonists, and I just love him for it! This chapter takes place before the books, when Gil was an apprentice. It was inspired by how I feel today, though I don't think that I'll actually die. It's written from Gilan's point of view.**

**Before the Books- Gilan**

I woke up that morning, and knew immediately that I was sick. I groaned as I sat up, then plopped right back down.

"Halt!" I yelled in a croaky, nasal voice. Just the energy taken up by yelling one word seemed to expend any stores of strength I had.

With some mild curiosity, I began taking stock of what was wrong with me. My eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds, and were watering like nobody's business. My body ached, my nose was runny and hacking coughs shook my body.

Halt was on the way to my room a few seconds later, "What, Gilan?" He began before he even got through the door.

"I'm sick." I replied simply.

He stopped and looked at me when he entered the room, appraising me. "Yes, you are." he said, crossing the room to sit on my bed. He put his hand on my forehead, feeling for a fever.

"You're burning up, Gilan. I'll go make some medicine. Stay in bed." He told me, getting up and moving to the kitchen.

I sighed, I had been looking forward to going to Castle Redmont today. There was a girl I had been hoping to see. Her name was Katie, and she had the prettiest green eyes…

Oh well, I would be better in a few days. After several minutes, Halt came back in with some tea for me to drink. I shuddered a bit at the bitter taste, but drank all of it, it would reduce my fever and put me to sleep.

Sure enough, about half an hour, I was dead to the world. For the next few days, my main activities were coughing and sleeping, I just couldn't seem to kick this cold. By day four, Halt was starting to get worried. Small red lesions had appeared in my mouth. They had blue-white centers, and they were soon all over my mouth and tongue.

Halt called a healer over to the house, and he looked me over. He clucked his tongue when he saw the spots in my mouth. He told Halt that I had the measles, a condition foreign to Araluen, I had probably picked it up when we had traveled to Gallica. There wasn't a cure, so all he could treat were the symptoms. He gave us a medication to keep my fever down and help with pain, and also a cream to put on the rash that should appear in a few days

After that, the healer took Halt aside and I couldn't hear what was being said. I was disappointed with the diagnosis, apparently I wasn't getting over this within the next few days. The doctor had described a rash that should emerge, and quite frankly it sounded painful. Though, he also said that with the rash, my other symptoms should disappear, except perhaps the cough.

Sure enough, in two days time, I was covered in red blotches. They began at my forehead, then spread down and out. Three days after it had appeared, the rash had reached my legs and feet. The blotches hurt, just coming in contact with my clothing irritated them. And though most of my original symptoms had disappeared, I still felt exhausted.

Halt was worried. I could tell, he constantly checked up on me, and couldn't stop checking my head for a fever. I felt more and more ill as the days went by, and my rash didn't go away. Halt religiously applied the cream and gave me my medication but none of it helped.

After nine days, I could feel myself slipping. I blacked out at random times during the day, and I couldn't remember anything when I was awake.

Finally, I went to sleep, and didn't wake up.

**Poor, Gil. He didn't even get the chance to die heroically. I'll have to give him a much more dramatic death scene later. In the meantime, review please!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Paradox**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ranger's Apprentice**

**So, I was informed that measles was _not, _in fact, an epic way to die, and that as an epic character, Gilan deserved a much more epic death. And in retrospect, I agree. Therefore, I have decided to give Gilan the most overly-dramatic, incredibly angsty, undeniably awesome death of all time! This chapter is more for fun then for real angst, so don't take it too seriously.**

**Gilan- Some Random Time**

The tall Ranger traveled swiftly through the trees, making no noise and leaving no trace. He was being chased by the followers of Gadianton, a man intent on overthrowing King Duncan's government and ruling Araluen. Gadianton was after Rangers, he knew that if he could discover their secrets, the entire Araluen army would be in the palm of his hand.

Gilan had been on his way to the Gathering when he heard a panicked voice calling, "Sir?" Upon further investigation, it was discovered that the voice belonged to a young boy with large, blue eyes and blonde hair.

Blaze stopped next to the boy at Gilan's command, and the boy continued, "My father, he's drunk, and he's hurting my mom! Come quick!"

The youngster darted into the tree's, expecting the Ranger to follow, and follow he did. Gilan slid off his horse and began running after the boy. He was barely ten yards into the forest when he heard a frightened whinny followed by a loud thump. He darted back to his abandoned horse, only to find her dead.

With a gasp, Gilan fell to the ground next to his fallen companion. In a matter of seconds he was surrounded by men carrying crossbows. He raised his bow on instinct, but quickly realized there was nothing he could do.

The leader of the group of assailants stepped forward, sneering at the helpless Ranger. "Bind him up, Travis," he called to one man, "then tie him to your horse."

Travis did as he was told, approaching Gilan with a snide grin on his face. "Hand over your weapons, Ranger. Then hold out your hands."

Gilan grudgingly did as he was told, seeing no other options. Ropes were looped around his wrists, then he was tied to an ugly mare and forced to jog along next to the men as they rode.

He was taken to a huge encampment, enclosed on all sides by steep cliffs, with only one apparent way in. Quietly, he admired the strategic advantages of this location. He took in all the details of the land surrounding him, knowing Halt would expect an in-depth description of the place when he escaped.

The band of men took him to the largest tent in the camp and, after untying him, shoved him roughly inside. He was greeted by a tall, pale man with black hair. His eyes were as grey as steel, and looked as if they were staring into your soul. Gilan immediately sensed this was not a man to be trifled with.

"Hello, Ranger." the man began, his voice was soft but confident. "What is your name?" Gilan, naturally, said nothing. Without batting an eyelash, the man slapped him across the face.

Just as calmly as before he asked, "What is your name?"

Gilan was a bit shaken, but still held his tongue.

The man fixed a cool stare on the Ranger and said, "My name is Gadianton, and you are my prisoner. I will make unspeakable things happen to you if you do not talk. I will ask you questions about yourself and the Ranger Corp, I expect them answered. Do not make the mistake of lying to me."

At this formidable speech, Gilan did what any Ranger would do. He made a cheeky comment. "Well sir, that's all very interesting, but you see I've recently had my tongue cut out and simply cannot answer any questions you ask me. So if you could just let me go…"

Another slap struck Gilan's cheek, this one much harder than the first.

"We'll see how you feel in a few days." Gadianton said simply, then ordered his men to remove Gilan from his tent.

In a few days, Gilan did feel worse. He had been given nothing but water for the past three days, locked in a cold, dark cavity found in the cliff and been beaten at least twice a day throughout his imprisonment. He had searched high and low for a way out, but there wasn't one.

The constant dark, damp environment wreaked havoc on his senses. The lack of food had weakened him considerably, and combined with the beatings his body was ready to give out.

Finally, he was bound and taken back to Gadianton's tent. He managed to walk there on his own, though by the time they reached their destination he was almost glad when he was forced to his knees.

Gadianton smiled down at Gilan, his eyes flashing maliciously. "What is your name?"

With steel in his eyes Gilan looked Gadianton in the face and spit at him.

Curling his lip Gadianton said, "I grow tired of this, if you don't talk you are of no use to me. And if you are of no use to me you will be… disposed of."

Still Gilan refused to talk, daring Gadianton to put his words into action.

"Fine, but I warn you, Ranger, you're death will not be quick or painless. Take him away!" Gadianton called to the men outside the tent, and Gilan was taken back to his prison.

After several days, Gilan was once again brought out into the sun. He was led to a wide open space filled with people and brought up onto a massive, wooden platform. It was obviously to be a public execution.

He was forced to kneel on the platform, waiting for his death. Gadianton ascended the steps, slowly making his way towards Gilan. He took out a long, leather whip and brandished it about a bit before approaching the young man, making the crowd go wild.

The whip came down fast and hard against Gilan's back, but he refused to flinch or make a sound. Gadianton ruthlessly beat the Ranger, not stopping until the crowd cried as one, "Death! Death!" At that point a flash of silver glinted in the sun as a dagger was drawn. The cold, cruel metal slit the pale flesh of his throat, and Gilan fell over, dead.

**Hm. Well. That was fun. Now the entirety of fan fiction knows just how odd of a sense of humor I have. It was not quite as melodramatic as I hoped it would be, but still! Review, please!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Paradox**

**I'm not going to give you any information about this chapter, it's a surprise!**

The two Rangers prowled through the forest. The shadows engulfed them, swirling around their creeping bodies. In the darkness they couldn't even see each other, but both knew the strategy they were using so well that they knew instinctually approximately where the other was.

Two assassins were being chased by the two friends after a failed attempt on the King's life. The men had managed to get their daggers to the King's throat, but had decided when they saw a pair of vengeful Ranger's coming after them with saxe knives.

Halt squinted into the darkness, looking for a telling glint of metal or a flash of clothing. His hearing was tuned into the forest, listening for sounds that didn't belong. As he approached a small grove of tree's, he stopped. He had a really bad feeling about this spot.

After the past few years, Halt had learned to trust his instincts, and right now they were telling him that he was walking into an ambush. Breaking the careful pattern being followed by Crowley and himself, he went back to tell his partner his suspicions.

Silently, he swept through the night. Finding Crowley was going to be difficult in the velvety darkness, he couldn't see more than a few yards ahead of him. He knew his general position, but Ranger's constantly improvised, using the surrounding cover to determine where they should be.

It began to rain, decreasing visibility even more. Halt cursed mentally, they needed to call off the search, this was pointless.

What started off as a drizzle quickly became a full on downpour. Water began to soak into his cloak, causing him to shiver violently. Crowley really should just show himself already!

Meanwhile, Crowley was looking for Halt. After a few minutes he had reached the same clearing that had made Halt pause, and also felt the forbidding feeling of warning. He had decided not to continue, and try to find his partner.

Crowley didn't know if Halt had gone through the grove or turned around, like he had. With a sense of hopelessness, he started going back the way he came. When the rain started, he couldn't help but getting more than a little annoyed.

The cold seeped inside the layer of his cloak, and he was soon soaked. Misery began to set in.

The combination of the darkness, the cold and the rain was disorienting him. The line between being highly tuned into your surrounding and being jumpy was becoming blurred, then crossed.

Crowley had his bow constantly at quarter-draw, ready to put an arrow through anything that moved.

A noise was made, a swish of fabric detected and an arrow shot. Crowley let loose three more arrows in quick succession before his heart stopped racing and he could think.

He let out a breath, confidant that several of his missiles had pounded into his attacker. He went over to inspect the dead assassin.

Crowley squinted through the blackness to get a good look at the damage done, he found one of his arrows in a tree, but the rest had found their target.

He turned the figure over with his foot and let out a strangled gasp.

Lying below him, pierced with three arrows, his eyes gaping open and glassy, was Halt O'Carrick.

**This was sort of short, but I like it, I think. Review, please!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Paradox**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except… nope nothing.**

**Remember the valley-girl from Seacliff? The one that got married? What was her name? Daisy? Delilah? Well she has a score to settle with dear Will… (By the way, I haven't read these books for a while, so please forgive me if the timeline or any details are sketchy, I'm not even sure if I have this girl's name right. Also, this one isn't very serious, so don't take it, you know, seriously.)**

**Will- Between Books 5 and 6**

With a sigh I settled down into my cabin. I busied myself with making dinner, settling for some fish fingers and custard.

Almost the minute I sat down to eat, I heard a knock on the door. I groaned mentally, but went to see who was there.

To my surprise, Dahlia was standing there, beaming and holding a bottle of wine. She swept inside as soon as I opened up the door and began chattering.

"I heard you were coming back from yet another mission today Will, and figured you could use a little cheering up. Unfortunately, we didn't hear soon enough to make you any dinner, but mother sent you some wine. I figured we could catch up a bit over a glass, we haven't talked at all since my… marriage."

I found myself warming up to the idea of spending the evening with Dahlia, she was good company and would be a blessed distraction from all the paperwork I knew was waiting for me.

Nodding, I replied, "Sure, go ahead and have a seat. I'll get some glasses while you tell me about what's been happening here in Seacliff."

Dahlia obeyed my request and began sharing the latest gossip with me. Miss Young and Mr. Timothy were finally getting married after over fifteen years of on again-off again courtship. Mrs. Bunmorrow had 'accidentally' killed her husbands dog and the shop on the corner had once again raised the price on brown sugar.

It did not escape my notice that Dahlia didn't talk at all about her new life as a married woman, in fact she seemed to be purposefully avoiding it. Feeling that it was probably best to let it be, I pushed it out of my mind.

I sipped at the wine delicately, noticing that it was really very strong. I shouldn't drink much of it, I couldn't hold alcohol at all. After only a half a glass, I resolved not to drink anymore.

Dahlia continued to babble, barely touching her own wine. In fact, it looked like she hadn't had any at all.

The minutes passed and Will began to feel very strange. His head was clouding up and his senses were dulling. With a sort of resigned sigh, he realized that he must be getting drunk, goodness he got worse at drinking alcohol every day.

"You know, Dahlia, it was really nice of you to come over, but I'm starting to get really tired. Perhaps it's time for you to go home?" I said politely, hoping my current condition wasn't too obvious.

Dahlia's eyes flashed. "Ah yes, you are getting tired aren't you? And your thoughts are all muggy and confused. I would even bet that your fingers are starting to feel a bit numb, am I right?"

I struggled to keep up with this new development, what was she talking about?

"You left, Will. You left me with that damn ferryman. I finally told Mother that I loved you and she panicked. She wasn't having any daughter of hers married to a Ranger, and so she sold me off to the first bidder."

Dahlia's voice was getting harder, she was practically spitting her words at me now. "And you weren't here to stick up for me. You were off with that stupid, blonde Courier that you like so much. Well, she can't have you. In case you haven't figured it out yet, I poisoned you. You should be dead in a few minutes."

And sure enough, I was.

**Once again, not a lot of work put into this. Just a fun one. **

**P.S. If you got the fish custard reference, you are my love.**

**P.P.S Unless you are a female, in which case, you are not my love.**


End file.
